


love it if we made it

by benzedrines



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Light Angst, Reader's swimming career is based on Katie Ledecky's, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 01:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20322919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benzedrines/pseuds/benzedrines
Summary: It's not everyday you meet your soulmate and decide to withhold that information from them.





	love it if we made it

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of Natsuya's birthday :)
> 
> Thank you so much to [Michelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hokshi) for beta reading for me! Words cannot express how grateful I am to her, and I'm glad that our mutual love for Natsuya brought us together. Chances are, if you're reading this, you've already read Michelle's work, so I probably don't have to tell you twice to read her work, buttttt if you've only read her Natsuya works, then I **strongly** recommend you read everything else she has to offer! Apart from her _Free!_ works, I am especially a fan of her _Haikyuu!!_ anthology and _Persona 5_ collab fic.
> 
> Anyway, time for me to go back to playing Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

“Stop sulking.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say without looking at your coach, your face propped in your hands as you stare at the pool down below.

“You don’t have to,” he replies. “Your thoughts are written all over your face.” You glance at him from the corner of your eye to see him cross his arms and then take a deep breath — signs that you’re in for a lecture. “I know you’d rather be in the pool, kid—“

“Not a kid,” you interrupt, just to be a nuisance.

“An adult wouldn’t interrupt someone when they’re talking,” your coach harrumphs, “but just because you’re not the one in the pool doesn’t mean that this isn’t still a chance for you to improve. Seeing the techniques of other swimmers is a good way for you to reflect on your own and ponder over how you can make yours better. That Kirishima kid — you’ve heard of him, right? — is swimming in today’s competition. I can tell he’s talented enough to go pro if he wanted. Wouldn’t hurt you to pay attention to his swimming in particular.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, but can’t stop yourself from grumbling under your breath, “I’m more likely to learn how to be a womanizer.”

“What was that?” your coach asks.

“I said, ‘I’ll make sure to keep a close eye on him when he’s racing,’” you lie.

“That’s the spirit!” your coach exclaims. You feel him lightly punch your arm afterwards. “You need this time off anyway. All your hard work would be pointless if you overworked yourself and hindered your training from overexertion of your body.”

This time, you don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “_The day off _ isn’t the problem,” you correct. “_The time spent _ on the day off is.”

“You’ll thank me for this later, kid,” your coach replies. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

You sigh. “No,” you answer reluctantly. 

Even if there were other ways you’d rather be spending your Sunday, you had to admit that you wouldn’t have gotten this far as a swimmer if it weren’t for your coach’s guidance.

“That’s right,” your coach said. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s wearing a smug expression on his face. “So perk up because the first heat is about to start and it looks like that Kirishima kid is in it.”

You don’t “perk up,” but you do divert your gaze from the still surface of the pool water to the starting blocks, where the swimmers are just beginning to step onto the blocks. A quick look at the scoreboard tells you that Natsuya’s in lane four, so you focus your attention there, though a shape on his lower back quickly distracts you.

Even sitting on the frontmost row of bleachers, he’s still too far away for you to make out the finer details of the shape. You don’t recall ever hearing that he had any voluntary tattoos, but you also don’t know enough about him to be sure of the fact, tending to ignore the gossip about him that circulated in your circle of swimming acquaintances. 

With the race so close to starting, you couldn’t just pull out your phone and — ashamedly — Google pictures of him to see if the shape you saw was his soulmate tattoo or not. Almost as ashamedly, you ask your coach, “Do you think that shape on his lower back is his soulmate tattoo?”

“Maybe. Now pay attention,” your coach answers in a clipped tone as the starter calls for the swimmers to take their marks.

“I’m paying attention,” you grumble, just before the signal of the starting system goes off and the swimmers dive into the water.

You’ve seen footage of some of Natsuya’s races in passing before — played on a TV or someone’s phone — so you know he’s fast, but anyone who swims competitively is fast.

To see his swimming in real time with your own eyes though…everyone else might as well be slow compared to him. His start lands him in the water about half a body’s length ahead of the other competitors and his strokes…the power behind them helps him keep his momentum as he propels through the water. With a dolphin kick that keeps him underwater longer than the other competitors, he all but guarantees his advancement in the competition and you’re wondering why he’s not swimming professionally when he’s clearly a skilled swimmer. 

Already, you’re thinking about how you can use his swimming technique to improve your own. Your start is as close to perfect as it can get, but maybe you could work on your dolphin kick to stay underwater longer as well.

You can feel your body thrumming with excitement and your attention span only lasts long enough for you to see Natsuya secure first place in his heat as he touches the wall and then surfaces before you turn to your coach. “I came here with you today; I watched a race; I paid attention to Kirishima in particular; can we please leave now?” you plead.

Your coach eyes you with a wary expression. “You’re just going to swim at the club in your free time if I let you go now, so no,” he answers without a second thought. “It’s your day off, kid. Relax. We can work on improving your technique tomorrow. When it’s not your day off.”

“You’re killing me,” you groan, sliding down the bleachers in defeat and ignoring the way it uncomfortably digs into your back in favor of being dramatic. “Shouldn’t you be glad that I’m so inspired I want to work on my technique immediately?”

Your coach only spares you a glance before focusing his attention back on the pool, where the next heat is starting to step onto the blocks. “Not if it means you not resting on your day off,” he replies. “Now sit properly. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Okay, dad,” you mock. Still, you do as he says, mainly because your back is starting to hurt. “Can I at least leave if I promise to stay on land the rest of the day?”

As enthralled as you’d been with Natsuya’s swimming, now that the adrenaline had left your body, if you weren’t allowed in the water, you just wanted to be at home in the comfort of your apartment, bingeing a show on Netflix.

Your coach doesn’t even look at you as he rolls his eyes. “We’re staying until the end of the finals, so either pay attention or occupy yourself somehow,” he answers.

“This is the worst Sunday ever,” you harrumph as you move to unlock your phone, already knowing that your attention span was spent. 

Your coach sighs. “I’ll treat you to food after this, how’s that sound?” he proposes.

You finally perk up. “Anything I want and as much of it as I want?” you ask, looking up at your coach with wide eyes.

“I choose the place, but you can order anything within your limits,” your coach corrects. “I don’t want you overeating just because I’m paying.”

“Deal,” you agree, before looking back down at your phone. 

Looking at the web browser on your home screen suddenly reminds you that you’d been curious about the shape on Natsuya’s lower back.

A glance at your coach tells you that he’s not paying an ounce of attention to you, but still, you keep your phone as close to your chest as possible as you type “natsuya kirishima shirtless” in the search bar. You discreetly scroll through the results — of which there are many — and as you do, you realize it’s no wonder that he’s hooked up with so many women and why so many of your acquaintances swoon at even the mention of his name with a face and a body like his. You’d heard that he only swam competitively for the money, but with his looks, he could easily make money in an occupation like modeling as well.

As soon as you have the thought, you realize that all your scrolling has done nothing but distract you and maybe imagine Natsuya in less than innocent situations, so you change your search to “natsuya kirishima back” instead, and you can only hope that the government agent assigned to you isn’t judging you too hard for your Google searches today.

These search terms prove to better serve your purpose, and you click on the direct picture of his back in the second result to get a better look, but the moment your eyes register the details of the previously indistinguishable shape, your grip on your phone loosens and it falls to the floor.

Luckily, the cheering of the crowd is loud enough to drown out the clatter of your phone hitting the metal bleachers, but you still make haste to swipe up your phone. No sooner than it’s back in your hands again does your coach spare you a glance, the movement of your phone falling probably catching his eye from the peripheral of his vision. You only smile sheepishly at him and then he shakes his head before returning his attention to the pool.

As soon as you’re sure that your coach isn’t paying attention to you anymore, you look back at the picture on your phone, thinking that maybe you were mistaken the first time. The picture looks the same as it had before you dropped your phone though, the tiger shark tattoo on Natsuya’s back as clear as day. Subconsciously, you bring a hand to your ribs. You don’t need to see the tattoo there to know what it looks like — its details long memorized ever since you woke up with it inked on your skin — or to confirm that it’s the same as the one reflecting back at you in the picture of Natsuya’s back.

When you thought about the moment you’d found your soulmate, you’d always imagined the event to be a mutual reveal, where you and your soulmate were surprised, but relieved and _ ecstatic _ to have finally found each other. With your soulmate tattoo always hidden under your swimsuits and clothes though, in hindsight, you should’ve realized that a mutual reveal would be hard to accomplish.

So now here you were, discovering the identity of your soulmate in an unknowingly one-sided reveal, and the whole moment just feels so surreal. A plethora of questions flood your mind. Do you approach Natsuya? Do you keep the knowledge to yourself? 

The loudest question among all of them though — why Natsuya?

From what you know about him, you feel confident in the fact that, at the very least, he’s not a bad person. Still, when you thought about the kind of person that your soulmate would be, Natsuya wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. It’s not even his reputation or his high number of bed partners that bothers you; it’s _ why _he even has a reputation and a high number of bed partners to begin with.

Although he isn’t a professional swimmer himself, Natsuya’s still talked about in the swimming world for his skill and just as much so about his womanizing, born from a mindset that he has all the time in the world to find his soulmate, so he might as well enjoy being young and uncuffed for as long as he can. You can’t fault him for that — and it’s not like you’ve abstained from sex since your soulmate tattoo appeared — but it’s hard to be excited about your soulmate when your soulmate isn’t in any rush to find you.

You wonder then, what good would it be for you to approach him? How would he feel if you reveal yourself as your soulmate to him? Would he be disappointed?

The answer to that last question, you realize, isn’t one you want to find out.

* * *

“Okay,” your coach says. As slow as molasses, you lift your gaze from your plate of food to your coach’s frowning face. “What’s wrong, kid? You’ve been unusually quiet since I offered to treat you to dinner. What’s bothering you? It can’t just be the competition.”

You smile, but doing so feels like it’s taking more muscles than usual. “Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. “I just felt bad about complaining so much.”

The dubious expression on your coach’s face tells you that he doesn’t believe you, but that’s to be expected from the man who’s trained you six days a week since you were a teenager. Still, you keep up your smile, knowing that if you do, your coach won’t push you unless you wanted to talk, which you don’t. 

“If you say so, kid,” your coach eventually replies, and you feel yourself let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding. He checks his watch. “Think you’ll be finished with your food soon?”

“Just trying to savor my food for once,” you lie again, still smiling. Although you weren’t eating at a snail’s pace, you weren’t eating as fast as you normally did either — no doubt another reason why your coach was worried about you. “You don’t have to wait for me if you’re ready to leave.”

From the conflicted expression on his face, you know your coach is internally debating whether he should or shouldn’t wait for you. Considering the fact that you’re a grown adult and that he’s already finished his own food though, you don’t really need him to do so.

Your coach must come to the same conclusion. “Don’t worry about the bill,” he finally decides, standing up to leave. “Don’t stay out too late either.”

“I know, I know,” you reply, dismissing his reminder with a wave of your hand. “See you at practice tomorrow.”

You watch your coach make his way out of the restaurant, and once he disappears from your line of vision, you feel like a weight’s been lifted from your shoulders now that you don’t have to feign normality. 

Your gaze returns to the food on your plate. There’s not that much left. You weren’t one to waste food, so the sooner you finished your food, the sooner you could go home. The evening was still young enough that you could probably watch a movie before going to bed. Then, you would sleep off the melancholy you felt, and tomorrow, you’d be right as rain again.

With a game plan in mind now, you move to take another bite of your food, but before the utensil can touch your lips, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance to speak to you alone,” Natsuya says with a pint glass in hand, seating himself in the chair your coach had been sitting on just minutes ago.

Nothing about this situation boded well. At worst, Natsuya was trying to pick you up for a one night stand. At best…well, you couldn’t think of anything remotely positive that could come from this conversation. 

Still, you keep your face neutral as you set down your eating utensil and keep your voice calm as you reply, “I don’t think the man I’m with would appreciate you sitting in his seat.”

You can’t say you’re thrilled about implying that your coach is a man you’re romantically involved with, but that was just a necessary evil for warding off Natsuya.

To your dismay, he doesn’t look the least bit disheartened. “Oh, is your coach coming back?” Natsuya asks instead, taking a quick look around the restaurant before focusing his eyes on you again. “I’ll give him his seat back when he does.”

“How— how did you know the man I was with is my coach?” you stammer out, too surprised to say anything else.

“Why, because I recognize you, of course,” Natsuya answers with a wink, stating your name afterwards. “The youngest participant from your country to participate in the 2012 Olympics.”

“I— yes, that’s me,” you say lamely. 

Outside of public events, you weren’t often recognized in your day-to-day life, so to be recognized by your _ soulmate _ — who didn’t even know he was your soulmate — of all people was disorienting, to say the least.

You highly doubt this is why he approached you, but still, if only to be polite, you ask, “Did you want an autograph? Or a picture?”

“I don’t need an autograph, but I certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to take a picture with a beautiful girl,” Natsuya replies, an easy smile on his face.

You automatically roll your eyes. “I’m not interested in one night stands,” you say, the words only registering in your mind after they’re spoken. Oops. So much for politeness.

“Whoa,” Natsuya chuckles, “where did that come from?”

You internally lament the fact that you can’t feign ignorance anymore. All because of a knee-jerk reaction.

“I recognize you too,” you reluctantly decide to admit. “Natsuya Kirishima. Non-professional competitive swimmer who enters races for prize money, like the one held today.” 

“Huh,” Natsuya says, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I didn’t think a swimmer of your caliber would ever recognize me, but it makes sense if you were at the race today.” He sticks his hand out, smiling again. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

A part of you considers leaving him hanging, but you weren’t trying to be straight up rude, so you shake his hand. “I’ll decide at the end of our conversation if this meeting is nice or not.” 

Natsuya laughs. “Fair enough,” he agrees. “So, tell me, [Name], are you in the habit of telling people that you’re not interested in one night stands?”

“Only when I’m approached by someone with a reputation like yours,” you answer wryly.

“Reputation?” Natsuya repeats, his eyes lighting up with curiosity as his lips curve up in a smirk. “Tell me more about this reputation of mine.”

You fix him with an exasperated look. “Oh, come on, there’s no way you don’t know about your reputation for being a womanizer.”

Natsuya laughs again, holding his hands up in surrender. “I can admit I hook up more than the average person,” he says, “but I’m curious how you’d know that about me before actually meeting me.”

Telling him that he’s often the subject of locker room talk at your swim club seems like an unnecessary ego boost. “Word gets around the competitive swimming scene,” you say instead with a shrug. “For the record, I’m not judging you for wanting to hook up. I just wanted to make my stance clear.”

“Waiting to meet your soulmate?” Natsuya guesses, resting his face on the palm of his hand. 

“Something like that,” you answer, managing a small smile. If only he realized the irony in what he was asking you. You mull over the wiseness of speaking your next words for a moment, before deciding to go forward with them. “Are you just not concerned about finding yours?” 

“Not really,” Natsuya replies. The amount of time he’d taken to answer stings somehow. He didn’t even need to think about it. “I’m not ready to settle down yet.”

You mirror his position, resting your face on the palm of your hand as well. “What if you met your soulmate before you were ready to settle down?

“Can’t say I’ve thought too much about it. Probably hope they’re willing to take a rain check,” Natsuya answers, an airy tone to his voice. 

Well, it’s not so much that you’re willing to “take a rain check,” but rather, with Natsuya having the outlook on soulmates that he did, keeping him in the dark just seemed to be the best course of action for the both of you. Now that you’d actually met him and confirmed your suspicions though, you’re resolute in your decision. It hurt to have to do so, but there’s no point in revealing yourself when your soulmate doesn’t want to be found, and you know the rejection will hurt even worse.

“Say,” Natsuya starts, pulling you out of your thoughts. He glances around the restaurant before meeting your gaze again. “Is your coach ever coming back?”

“Oh, no. I lied earlier,” you answer, your tone casual. “I thought maybe you’d go away if it seemed like he was coming back.”

“Mind if I take this seat then?” Natsuya simply asks, unbothered by your admittedly rude words. “I’ll buy you a drink.” You must subconsciously eye him with suspicion because he’s quick to add, “As a friendly gesture.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A bit late to be asking after you’ve been sitting there for this long, isn’t it?” you ask rhetorically. “Anyway, thanks for offering, but I don’t drink. Is it even a good idea for you to be drinking when you’re a competitive swimmer?”

Natsuya shrugs. “As long as I don’t belong to a team, the only person I have to answer to is me. Good idea or not,” he explains, his tone nonchalant.

“Well, your performance today was impressive, so I suppose you must be doing something right,” you concede. Telling him seeing his swimming inspired your own seems like another unnecessary ego boost, so you decide to withhold that bit of information too.

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from someone like you,” Natsuya replies. The serious expression on his face tells you that he’s not just flattering you with empty words; he’s actually being earnest. “What about you? Any races coming up?”

You tell him about the Pan Pacific Swimming Championships coming up in August, which is your only race in 2018, and about the World Championships next July in 2019 — explaining that in the years in-between the Olympics, these meets are the only opportunities you have to compete on an international championship-level. Then, of course, in 2020, you’ll be competing to qualify for a spot on the national team at the Olympics.

Afterwards, you bounce the question back at Natsuya. He doesn’t have any races in mind yet though — smaller races usually only cover his travel costs, so he goes wherever the worthwhile cash prizes are, which prompts you to ask him about where his searches have led him. 

Natsuya’s more than happy to tell you about all about his travels, his enthusiasm unwavering as he talks about this place and that place and so on. Among his many tales is a story from his adventures in babysitting the neighborhood kids when he homestayed in Acapulco, even proclaiming that he was nicknamed the “Angel of Sleep” for how good he was at putting the kids down for their naps. 

When Natsuya bounces the question back at you, you tell him about the cities you’ve visited as a competitive swimmer and, unsurprisingly, he’s especially interested in your travels to London and Rio de Janeiro for the Olympics, pressing you for details about the Olympic Village. You weren’t even legally an adult in London, so your time in the village was spent eating and sleeping (and ignoring all the sex happening around you), but Rio de Janeiro was a different story. You’re loath to tell him about your experience in the village then, but you ultimately cave under his insistence. 

“Let’s just say that I indulged in multiple one night stands during my time in the village leading up to my events,” you reveal, your face feeling like it’s on fire. 

Natsuya throws his head back in hearty laughter. “I did not,” he says in-between laughs, “expect that.” Once he calms down, he slow claps as he shakes his head. “Wow. Did you end up having a bad partner that turned you off from casual sex until you meet your soulmate?”

“No!” you exclaim. Still, you quickly recollect the athletes you’d slept with in Rio de Janeiro — and mentally confirm that no, none of them were bad partners — which only makes your face feel even hotter. “It’s just that it’s not everyday I’m surrounded by Olympic athletes from all over the world, so I made the most of that since I was old enough to, and the sex had an added bonus of relieving the stress I was under. And that’s all I’m saying about Rio.”

“You have to at least tell me what kind of athletes you hooked up with and from what countries,” Natsuya implores.

You shrug. “Sorry,” you apologize, even though you’re not very sorry at all, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Mercifully, Natsuya doesn’t press any further and instead, changes the subject — asking you about this swimmer and that swimmer, and then you two end up talking about the ones you admire. You even learn that his favorite quote comes from a Russian competitive-swimmer-turned-coach. 

Conversation with Natsuya flows easier than you thought it would, so much so that you lose track of time as you continue to share stories and laughter with him. It’s only when your phone lights up with a reminder that you need to be in bed in an hour that you realize how much time has passed.

With more regret than you thought you’d feel, you begrudgingly announce, “I need to get going,” standing up afterwards. “Have to get to bed soon.”

Natsuya follows suit. “I’ll walk you out,” he says, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him.

“Oh, um,” you stammer, “thank you.”

You lead the way out of the restaurant — terribly aware of Natsuya’s presence behind you — and almost let out a sigh of relief when you finally step outside, thinking that this would be where you two part ways. Instead, Natsuya stands beside you, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

After a moment of you looking back at him with a blank expression on your face, he asks, “How are you getting home?”

“I drove,” you answer slowly, confused as to why he would ask. Reflexively, you point in the direction of your car. “My car’s over there.”

Natsuya nods before walking off in the direction you’d pointed at. “Let’s go then.”

For a moment, you just stare at his back as he walks farther and farther away. When what’s happening sinks in, you jog after him, calling out, “You could at least ask if you wanted a ride home.”

Natsuya glances back at you, flashing an easy smile. “Who said anything about a ride home?” he asks. “I just wanna make sure you get to your car safely.”

You mentally facepalm. There you go — making an ass of yourself for assuming again. “Oh, well, thank you,” you say, slowing down your pace to match his stride now that you’ve caught up to him. “That’s very gentlemanly of you.”

“What can I say? My parents raised me well.”

When the two of you get to your car, you ask, “Do you want me to drive you home?”

Natsuya waves your words away. “Nah, it’s not too far a walk from here,” he answers. “Besides, don’t you need to call it a night? I don’t want to keep you out any later.”

“If you’re sure…” you say, trailing off at the end. Natsuya nods in response, settling the matter once and for all. “Thanks again for walking me then. Get home safe.” 

You get in your car — Natsuya keeping an eye on you all the while — and once you have the engine started, he gestures for you to roll down your window.

After you do so, he asks, “Would you say that it was nice meeting me?”

At first, you’re confused by his question until you remember what he’s referring to. Then, you consider your answer. Apart from the rough start, surprisingly, you’d actually enjoyed your time with Natsuya. 

“Yes, I can now officially say that it’s nice to meet you, Natsuya.” You offer him your hand and — for the first time tonight — smile without any trouble.

Natsuya takes your proffered hand in his, but instead of feeling skin on skin, you feel cold glass instead. When he retracts his hand, you look down and see a phone — his phone, presumably — in your hand.

You look back up at Natsuya expectantly, prompting him to ask, “Will you let me know when you get home so I know that you made it home safe?”

Well. That was certainly a question. A loaded question if you’d ever heard one. One with a number of ways that you could answer.

You _ could _ remind Natsuya that you weren’t interested in a one night stand. Based on how he responded the last two times you made an assumption about him and his intentions though, you’d probably just end up making yourself look like an ass yet again.

You could also play dumb and tease Natsuya — respond by asking him how he wants you to do that when you don’t have his number — but that line of conversation leans towards flirty banter, and that’s not really a path you want to walk.

“Only if you do the same for me.”

Stance on soulmates aside — Natsuya _ had _ been kind and considerate towards you the entire evening, even if you might not have deserved such courteous behavior on his part.

“Deal,” he agrees with a smile.

You call yourself from Natsuya’s phone and then end the call before handing his phone back to him, bidding him goodnight. He says the same back to you, and, even as you drive away, you can still see him keeping an eye on your car from your rearview mirror.

As soon as you’re home with your apartment door closed and locked behind you, you send Natsuya a text to let him know you’re home safe and sound, and then go about getting ready for bed. From the bathroom, you can hear your phone chime in your bedroom, but you don’t bother walking between rooms to check it — figuring the texts are just from Natsuya acknowledging that he got your text and then letting you know that he made it home.

In hindsight, you should’ve just checked your phone as soon as the texts came in, because now you’re lying in bed staring at a shirtless selfie of Natsuya — _ in bed no less _— on your phone screen with wide eyes. You barely even register his other texts saying that he was home and wishing you goodnight.

In the back of your mind, you’re conscious of how much time you have left before you absolutely need to set your alarm and then go to sleep. Still, you can’t stop staring at the selfie he’d sent. Sure, you were just googling shirtless pictures of him earlier in the day, but seeing pictures of him at competitions was nothing compared to a selfie taken _ for _ you and _ only _ you. You brought a hand to wipe at your mouth, expecting for there to be drool, only to somehow find none.

How were you supposed to fall asleep now? How could someone have a body that looked like it was sculpted by the gods? How was this person your soulmate? How come you had to feign ignorance when you already found your soulmate and he was sending you shirtless selfies in bed at night?

You turn your face into your pillow and then let out a scream.

Afterwards, feeling considerably calmer, you make sure that the text you send back doesn’t give away any of your turmoil. 

_ “You’re shameless. Good night.” _

* * *

Though you haven’t been out of the pool for long, already, you long to be back in it. You’re even willing to do more dryland training. Without any more training to focus on today, now you’re just stuck with your own thoughts as you walk through the hallways of your swim club to head outside, spooning yogurt into your mouth.

Every time you think that yesterday was a fever dream, you’re reminded of the shirtless selfie that exists in a text thread on your phone. Even then, maybe that’s a fever dream too. A convincingly realistic one.

You sigh as you ruffle your hair, trying to get it to lay comfortably on your head in its still damp state before going back to eating your yogurt. 

Why are you so bent out of shape over this? Sure, you discovered your soulmate — who doesn’t know you’re his soulmate — yesterday; and sure, you two have each other’s numbers, but you highly doubt you two would actually see each other again. 

After all, why would you? What reason would either of you have? Sure, you can admit that you two got on well, but you wouldn’t call Natsuya a friend; and as far as he knows, you two are just fellow swimmers who happened to meet and spend some time conversing last night.

That thought makes you deflate ever so slightly, but you quickly shake off the feeling. When you set aside your emotions and think about the situation rationally, this is for the better anyway. You frown upon Natsuya for wanting to settle down on _ his _ terms, but realistically, are you any more ready to settle down than he is? 

For six days a week, your day starts at 4 a.m. and doesn’t end until 6 p.m., giving you roughly 3-3.5 hours of free time before you go to bed and repeat the cycle all over again the next day. No, your life and identity isn’t only swimming, but it’s without a doubt your number one priority right now; and it’ll continue to be your number one priority for a while considering that you hope to compete in 3-4 more Olympics. 

With all the time you spend training, what time is really left for you to dedicate to a relationship? And who knows? Maybe by the time you decide to retire, you and Natsuya will end up crossing paths again somehow (maybe because he’d decided to go pro); and maybe then, you’ll both finally be on the same page.

When you step outside the club, the cool evening air brings you back to reality — and like the building you’d just exited — you’re ready to leave your bothersome thoughts behind. 

There’s almost a spring in your step as you make your way towards your car — quickly detouring to a trash can to toss your empty yogurt cup — but you give pause when you hear someone say, “Yo.”

With a sense of foreboding, your eyes look into the direction of the voice, meeting that of Natsuya’s. 

As strange as yesterday was, you’re positive that yesterday’s events didn’t include planning to see Natsuya after today’s training — prompting you to turn and see if there was anyone behind you that he might’ve been greeting instead. 

To your chagrin, however, there’s no one behind you, and when you turn back to look at Natsuya, there’s a smirk on his face. He even waves at you, and you reluctantly accept that he is, apparently, there to see you.

You cross your arms. “What brings you here?” you ask, your tone wary.

“I’m here to see you, of course,” Natsuya answers with a grin. “Since we get along so well, I thought we could hang out again.”

You’re not sure if you’d say that you two get along “so well,” but you decide to keep that thought yourself. “You do realize that you have my number? And that you didn’t have to come to my swim club to invite me to hang out?”

Natsuya shrugs. “A text seems so impersonal when I could come see you in person instead,” he says, smiling. “So? How ‘bout it? Wanna hang out?”

“I don’t exactly have the time to be out and about tonight, and I already have dinner at home, so if you want to hang out, we’ll have to hang out at my apartment,” you reply, your words seeming to leave your mouth without a second thought.

“Fine by me,” Natsuya replies, locking you into plans that you’d proposed without thinking.

Withholding a sigh, you start walking to your car again. “How long were you waiting for me anyway?” you ask. He definitely hadn’t been outside when you arrived for and then left morning practice, but you hadn’t seen him when you arrived at afternoon practice either. 

Natsuya falls into step with you with ease. “Not long,” he answers nonchalantly, his collected demeanor making you decide he’s (probably) telling the truth. “Thought I’d stop by after class.”

“You’re in school?” you ask, your tone tinged with obvious surprise. You know he’s around your age, but you figured he’d already finished school -- if he even went at all.

“Yup, here abroad through my university for the spring term,” Natsuya answers. A beat passes before he speaks again. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to this place.” 

You spare a glance at Natsuya — catching a glimpse of his thoughtful expression — before your gaze is fixed straight ahead again. “What do you mean?”

“I used to be a member of this swim club.”

“Really?” you ask, stopping in your tracks from your surprise. You’d been training with your swim club since you were 10, but you weren’t sure you remembered anyone that looked like a younger version of him. Unless… “Wait, you’re that kid who moved here from Japan just to train at this specific swim club?”

“That’s me,” Natsuya confirms with a nod of his head.

“Huh…” you say, starting to walk again. “I think I was focused on training for World Championships when you joined the new season, so I can’t say I was really paying attention to anyone else.”

“You wound me,” Natsuya jokes, with his hand clutching at his heart. 

You only shrug in response. “Anyway, didn’t you have a brother that joined the swim club too? Why’d you two end up leaving? Just got tired of swimming on a team?”

Natsuya laughs. “No, my parents just wanted my brother and I to finish our schooling back home instead of in a foreign country,” he answers. “My brother still swims on a team at his university though.”

Out of curiosity, you ask Natsuya more about this mysterious brother, and for the trip back to your apartment, he’s more than happy to talk about Ikuya. From his voice to the way his face lights up, you can tell that Natsuya truly loves his younger brother; and his obvious pride at Ikuya’s accomplishments makes you smile.

The two of you are approaching your apartment when you say, “Maybe I’ll see him at the Olympics one day.”

“He’s definitely capable of making it to the national team,” Natsuya replies as you unlock the front door. After you get the door open, he steps through the threshold and then lets out a low whistle. “Nice place you have here. You looking for a roommate?” 

You roll your eyes. “If I wanted a roommate, I’d already have one,” you answer, closing the door. “Your school’s housing can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with the dorm, but this—” Natsuya gestures around your living room. “—would definitely be an upgrade.” 

“I would imagine so,” you say as your way to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge afterwards. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Nope,” Natsuya replies, walking into the kitchen himself before leaning his arms on the island.

You slide a Tupperware container across the island to him. “I’d feel bad if I were the only one eating, so you can have today’s dinner.”

Natsuya raises his eyebrows. “What about you? What are you gonna eat?”

“Yesterday’s dinner,” you reply, holding up a matching Tupperware container. As you make your way back to the living room — Natsuya following behind you — you explain, “I try to eat dinner within half an hour of practice ending, so with travel time and prep time, there’s just not enough time for me to cook after practice. That’s why I meal prep for the week over the weekend.”

“Lucky for me you had extra food then,” Natsuya says, settling down on your couch without needing to be prompted. “Because you went out to eat with your coach yesterday, right?” 

“Right,” you answer as you pick up your remote control and navigate your TV to Netflix. “Any suggestions?”

While scrolling through the myriad of options, Natsuya suggests an action movie he’s seen before that he really liked. Since you haven’t seen it, you decide there’s no reason for you to object to the choice, settling in next to him on the couch.

Throughout the movie, Natsuya points out when a part’s coming up that he thought was especially thrilling — even going as far as to shake your shoulder if your attention is elsewhere. From his enthusiasm, you’d think this was his first time seeing the movie, but you have to admit it’s somewhat endearing.

Once the credits roll, Natsuya immediately turns to you and asks for your opinion on the movie. His eager expression makes you think that if he were a dog, his tail would definitely be wagging nonstop right now. 

When you tell Natsuya that the movie was surprisingly enjoyable, he gushes about how much he loves action movies and the way watching them really pumps him up. 

“I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d be so enthusiastic about action movies,” you say.

“Oh yeah,” Natsuya replies with a vigorous nod, “I’ve loved them since middle school.” He goes on to name a few of his favorites, recommending that you watch them if you haven’t already.

In turn, you tell Natsuya about your own favorite movies; and the rest of the night passes with you two talking about your various likes, and even dislikes, as you two think of them — from movies and TV to colors and animals. 

When your phone lights up, Natsuya knowingly asks, “Let me guess — you need to get to bed soon?”

“You guess right,” you reply as you stand up, stretching your arms above your head. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No need, but thanks for offering,” Natsuya answers with a smile. “Let me just clean up and then I’ll head out.” 

Before you can object, Natsuya’s already making his way to the kitchen. From the living room, you can hear him rinse out the containers, and even open your dishwasher to place them inside. When he returns, you thank him for cleaning up as you walk him to the door.

“Thanks for hanging out with me tonight and providing me with dinner,” Natsuya counters.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?”

“Positive. I’ll be sure to text you when I get home though so you know I made it in one piece,” Natsuya says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You roll your eyes. “Thanks _ so _ much for thinking of me,” you say, your tone sarcastic. Still, you can’t keep your lips from curving up in a smile. “Goodnight, Natsuya.”

“Goodnight, [Name].”

You watch Natsuya make his way to the elevator, and once he’s inside, he waves at you before the doors close and he’s out of sight.

While you’re getting ready for bed, you hear your phone chime from your bedroom — the sound making you stiffen. Even though you’re in the middle of your skincare routine, you walk back into your bedroom to check your phone, having learned your lesson the first time.

As expected, you have a text from Natsuya telling you that he’s home and another shirtless selfie to accompany it, no less droolworthy than the one from last night. You take a moment to enjoy the sight, but your reply doesn’t suggest otherwise. _“Are you trying to make this a pattern?”_

_ “I could. Would you like that?” _

_ “If I wanted to see pictures of you shirtless, there’s probably plenty of you at competitions.” _

_“What’s special about these though is that they’re just for you. ;)”_

“_Goodnight, Natsuya.” _

The next day, you chalk up last night as yet another (realistic) fever dream, but like clockwork, Natsuya’s waiting for you again when you leave practice at the end of the day. The two of you end up hanging out at your apartment again until you have to call it a night and see him off. He (sadly) doesn’t send a shirtless selfie when he lets you know he’s made it home, but otherwise, the cycle repeats. Over and over and over. 

By the end of the week, you’re not even surprised anymore when you see Natsuya waiting for you outside the swim club — deciding that it’s time to stop deluding yourself and confront the reality that Natsuya has been seeking you out for who knows what reason.

He opens his mouth to greet you, but you speak before he can. “I want to ask you something; and I want you to be honest with me.”

The smile on his face curves downwards into a confused frown. “Okay, sure,” Natsuya agrees after a beat, his expression serious now. “What is it that you want to ask me?”

“It’s not that you’ve given me reason to think so,” you start, already feeling remorseful for even feeling the need to ask this, “but, us hanging out lately, is that just a strategy to sleep with me?”

A heavy silence hangs between the two of you, and the longer it fills the air, the more you feel like squirming under his intense gaze. 

“Do you think so lowly of me?” Natsuya eventually asks, a forced smile on his face.

“No!” you immediately shout. “No! It’s just that, well, I guess I can’t see why you’d want to hang out with me otherwise. I’m not looking for a sugar baby; I’m not in a position where I can coach someone; and I’m not famous enough for anyone seen with me to become famous by association.”

“Well,” Natsuya starts, “it’s like I’ve said — we got along well when we first met, so I wanted to get to know you better.” He pauses to scratch the back of his neck. “This might sound weird, but the night we first met, it felt like we had this connection between us; and after we went our separate ways, I just felt like I had to see you again. I know that sounds like a line, but it’s the honest truth. Promise.”

Chances are that the connection Natsuya felt is due to the fact that you two are soulmates. After all, for as much as you wanted to keep him at arm’s length, you can’t deny that you feel a pull toward him too. 

“I believe you,” you say, not giving your answer a second thought. 

Even if you didn’t have the knowledge that Natsuya’s your soulmate, you also had the knowledge of the time you spent with him over this past week. Sure, a week might not be enough time to truly know someone, but his words and actions painted a clear enough picture of his character to make you believe him without a doubt.

At your answer, Natsuya smiles — a real one this time — and the whole action lights up his face. Smiling seems so natural for him that you feel regretful for giving him reason not to. “Are we good then?” he asks.

“Almost,” you reply. Before Natsuya’s smile can fade, you quickly barrel on. “First, I have to apologize for what I’ve said. You’ve been nothing but friendly and respectful to me since we’ve met and you continued to be that way even after I accused you of having ulterior motives. I judged you without really knowing you from the very beginning, and I’m deeply sorry.”

“That’s what happens when your reputation precedes you,” Natsuya says with a chuckle. “Don’t worry; you’re not the first person to have a preconceived opinion of me.”

“That doesn’t make what I’ve done okay,” you insist. “How can I make it up to you?

Natsuya taps his chin with his index finger. “How about you treat me to dinner at the restaurant where we first met?”

“That’s it?” you ask, your tone slightly shocked. You weren’t sure what to expect from him, but you weren’t expecting an ask this small.

Natsuya laughs. “Not all of us have Olympic athlete money,” he says. “I plan on having drinks with dinner too, just so you know.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms afterwards. “A few beers on top of your dinner and mine isn’t going to break the bank.”

“Then,” Natsuya starts, dragging out the word, “dinner, beers, and you drive me home afterwards.” 

“I’ll do you one better — I’ll let you crash at my place afterwards,” you offer. “You’ll have to sleep on the couch, of course, but it’s got a pull-out bed that I can personally attest to being as comfortable as a bed.”

“What if I decide that it’s not?” Natsuya asks, a teasing smile on his face.

You roll your eyes again. “Then I’ll make you whatever you want for breakfast.”

Natsuya exaggeratedly hums in thought. “Okay,” he finally decides. He holds out his hand for you to shake and you don’t hesitate to shake his proffered hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Once the two of you release each other’s hands, you two start walking to your car — Natsuya continuing to tease you by informing you of his preferred breakfast. Still, you can’t help but smile, because ending your day with Natsuya just feels like the natural order of things.

* * *

After officiating your friendship with Natsuya, you spend just about all your time outside of practice with him. He continues to meet you after you’re done with practice, but he also ends up staying the night when you don’t have practice the next day. He even goes grocery shopping with you on your day off each week, since buying groceries for two just makes sense when he’s eating dinner with you every night. On days where you weren’t able to nail a drill in practice, he’s there to listen to you vent your frustrations and talk enough for the two of you until you’re smiling again. On days where practice goes exceptionally well, he’s there to revel in your accomplishments as if they were his own, his ego not at all threatened.

Natsuya becomes so integral to your life that you can’t imagine going back to what your life was like before he’d entered it. 

You can’t imagine your home not being a place that’s as comfortable as being in the water. Or not having an abundance of beer cans filling up your recycling bin. Not hearing him singing in different rooms in the apartment. Or not being able to sit in a shopping cart and get pushed around the grocery store. Not hearing the smoke alarm go off once in a blue moon from a failed cooking attempt. 

You can’t imagine not knowing Natsuya.

For the past two weeks, you’d been out of town at a training camp at one of the country’s training facilities for Olympic athletes. Since landing back in the city, you’ve been antsy the whole car ride back to your apartment. 

To compensate for the lack of one-on-one time while you were away, the two of you texted more often than you two would on a normal basis — sending brief updates about each other’s day and memes that would make the other laugh. Still, words on a screen didn’t compare to spending time with him in person, so now that you’re back in town, you’re looking forward to seeing Natsuya as soon as possible.

While you were gone, you’d asked Natsuya to apartment-sit. Even if only temporarily, you figured he would enjoy having a space — a space as nice as your apartment, no less — to himself. As such, you’re curious about what state you’ll find your apartment in when you walk through the front door. 

He’d always helped you clean up when he was over, but still, without you there, you couldn’t help imagining your apartment as a war zone of Sapporo beer cans, unwashed pots and pans, and dirty clothes on the floor. The mental image made you shudder with disgust and you could only pray that your imagination was just running wild and/or Natsuya at least brought your mail in.

When you arrive at your apartment, after unlocking the front door, you pause with your hand on the door knob, bracing yourself. With a deep breath, you open the door, but to your surprise, your apartment looks exactly like it did before you went out of town.

Once the door is closed behind you, you step further into your apartment, amazed that not only does it look the same, but it even looks _ cleaner _. The letter rack on the wall by the front door even actually contains the mail you received while you were gone.

As you’re looking around your living room in awe, Natsuya enters your line of vision from the kitchen, and the sight of him allows you to finally feel like you’re at home.

“You’re home earlier than expected,” Natsuya observes. He leans against the doorway with his arms crossed, which draws your attention to what he’s wearing. 

“My flight got in earlier than expected,” you quickly explain. “Is that—”

“Why don’t you get settled?” Natsuya suggests, cutting you off. “We can have dinner together afterwards.”

He walks back into the kitchen once he’s finished speaking, leaving no room for discussion. In theory, you _ could _ follow him into the kitchen, but you can’t deny that you’d like a shower to wash off the grime from your day of travel — you’re already almost certain that he’s wearing your apron for who knows what reason anyway.

After showering and then getting dressed again, you walk back out into the living room to see the TV already on and Natsuya carrying two plates of food to the coffee table. 

“You made dinner?” you ask, taking a seat on the sofa.

Natsuya hands you one of the plates. “Thought it’d be a nice surprise,” he answered, taking a seat next to you with his own plate of food.

Upon closer inspection, you see that the dinner Natsuya made perfectly caters to your diet, and that touches you even more — making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You lift your eyes to meet his, finding that they’re already trained on you. 

“Consider me surprised,” you say with a smile, turning your body to face him. “Thanks for doing this. And for apartment-sitting.” 

Natsuya returns your smile. “It wasn’t a problem at all,” he replies, mirroring your position. “My offer still stands if you decide you want a roommate, by the way.”

You hum in thought, deciding to play along for now. “You _ do _ cook…”

“I even clean!” Natsuya adds, gesturing around your apartment with his free hand. “Look at how spotless your apartment is. Imagine your apartment being this clean everyday with me living here.”

“Yeah, right!” you laugh. “Even _ I _ don’t clean every day. Fess up — you waited until the last minute to clean, didn’t you?”

“Okay, okay, you caught me,” Natsuya admits with a laugh of his own, raising his free hand in surrender. “Maybe I was motivated to clean by the beer I accidentally spilled on the floor, but at least I still cleaned, right?”

“Thanks for not letting me come home to beer on the floor, I guess,” you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

A beat passes with the two of you staring at each other with blank expressions, and then, you two burst out laughing.

After the two of you calm down from your laughter, as you two finally dig into your dinners, Natsuya asks you about your training camp. You tell him all about your training, noting that you feel like you train really well when you’re at this training facility because of the focused environment. Everyone, yourself included of course, is just there to eat, sleep, and swim; and it’s nice to be able to have that kind of hyperfocus that your day-to-day life doesn’t afford you. 

Even though the training facility is like a second home to you though, it still doesn’t compare to actually being at home. You decide not to mention the extent to which you missed him, but you do mention that you’re looking forward to finally being able to sleep in your own bed — the training facility’s high altitude having made breathing and sleeping harder. 

In turn, Natsuya tells you about what he’s been up to these past two weeks. You smile at his story about unwittingly helping some kids with their swimming at a public pool; laugh at how he brought all his dirty laundry with him to your apartment so he could take advantage of not paying for a washer and dryer; and playfully reprimand him for watching episodes of a show you two had started together without you. Although you would’ve liked having the time to call him at the end of each day instead of catching each other up to speed like this, you’re still glad to have a clear picture of how he’d spent his time now — his words filling in the blanks from the brief update texts he’d sent you. 

After Natsuya finishes recapping his past two weeks, you announce, “It’s good to be home.” You lean back against the couch cushions, turning your head to face him. “I’ve missed this. Missed having dinner with you and talking with you over dinner.”

Natsuya sits farther back on the couch, draping his arm across the back of it. “I’m flattered you prefer my company over your Olympic teammates.”

“Of course I do! You’re my—” 

You pause, feeling like your throat is seizing up. The word “soulmate,” had been on the tip of your tongue, but why? Sure, saying that Natsuya is your soulmate isn’t untrue, but he’d never really been your soulmate in any sense of the word in your mind. 

At first, Natsuya was just a stranger that the universe had decided you should be connected to. Once he became a recurring presence in your life, you’d always just thought of him as being a friend. An attractive friend, yes, but just a friend, nonetheless. Why are you now thinking of him as your soulmate?

“—best friend,” you finish, a beat too late. After the words leave your mouth, you realize that — even though they’re not what you originally thought to say — they’re still true, allowing you to speak with more conviction. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Really? Me?” Natsuya asks, pointing to himself with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah, you,” you laugh. “If I didn’t consider you my best friend; I don’t know who else would be. I mean, you’re the only person I have dinner with every night and let sleep over every weekend.”

“That’s fair,” Natsuya replies, laughing as well. “For the record, you’re mine too—” 

Hearing him say that word — _ mine _ — in relation to you has a surprising and unexpected effect on you. You’re hyperaware of the fact that your heart is beating faster than usual, and you concentrate on keeping your breathing steady, willing yourself to calm down.

“—so this calls for a celebration, I think,” Natsuya finishes. “We can celebrate our friendship _ and _ your return. You still have the day off tomorrow, right?”

And that’s how you find yourself leaving the comfort of your apartment that Saturday night.

As the two of you wind your way through the neighborhoods in-between your apartment and downtown, you’re overly conscious about how close you two are while walking side-by-side. Have the two of you always stood this close when walking next to each other? If you so much as stretched out your pinky, you could easily hook it onto his…

To keep yourself from acting impulsively, you decide to hug yourself, grabbing onto your upper arms with your hands.

“Cold?” Natsuya asks, glancing over at you. Before you can even answer — you’re still deciding whether or not to roll with the excuse he’d conveniently provided you — he’s already shrugging off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders afterwards. “Better?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile, adjusting your arms in order to wear the jacket properly. “Thanks. Won’t you be cold though?”

You weren’t particularly cold to begin with, but his lingering body heat combined with the sherpa collar and lining of his jacket keeps you nice and toasty, with the added bonus of also smelling like him. Still, being cold isn’t a white lie you want to tell at his expense, considering that he’s only wearing a black t-shirt now. 

Natsuya waves your words away. “I’ll be fine. Besides, if I get sick, you can just nurse me back to health,” he says, winking.

You can’t bring yourself to outright deny him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you reply instead, your tone dry.

Natsuya only smiles innocently in response. You shake your head at him, but you find your lips curling upwards until you’re smiling too.

Once you two arrive downtown, the two of you start keeping an eye out for a place that both of you can enjoy. 

Having already eaten, you two automatically rule out all the restaurants. Dessert places aren’t an option either, considering you don’t eat sweets. You also rule out all the bars since Natsuya would be the only one drinking; and as much as you care about him, you aren’t willing to babysit a drunk Natsuya. 

You’d never thought about how so many social activities revolved around eating and/or drinking until now, and you’re about ready to suggest the two of you just see a movie. 

That is, until Natsuya asks, “Feel like doing some karaoke?”

He tilts his head in the direction of a karaoke lounge. Your eyes follow the movement, perking up when you realize that you recognize the place he’d pointed out. You’d been here a few times with teammates from your swim club, but your last visit was a long while ago, so you easily agree to his suggestion.

After the two of you are settled into your own private room, Natsuya doesn’t hesitate to pick a song and then start singing his heart out. 

Natsuya had already sounded good whenever you heard him singing around your apartment, but being able to see him as he sings somehow makes him sound even better. Even though he only has an audience of one, he sings as though he’s performing in a stadium, and it’s that kind of enthusiasm that makes his performance truly captivating.

“How is it that you’re good at karaoke when karaoke is supposed to be bad?” you ask him at the end of the song.

“It’s one of my many talents,” Natsuya says with a wink, taking a seat next to you on the couch. “Don’t worry, no matter how you sound, I’ll clap for you.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t need your pity clapping,” you reply, gently shoving a laughing Natsuya away from you before you stand up to enter in your song choice. 

You’re confident enough in your singing ability to know that you can pull off a performance of this song — a pop song that had been a staple in your driving/shower playlist for months. 

As the instrumental fades out, you hear Natsuya clapping; and when you turn to look at him, with a wide grin, he says, “There’s no way I could ever pity clap when you sing like that.”

The rest of the night continues with you two taking turns singing songs and occasionally singing duets whenever either of you found one that you liked in the catalog of songs. In-between songs, you two regain your energy by snacking on appetizers, and Natsuya even indulges in a few beers. As he goes from buzzed to tipsy, you can’t help but giggle as his performances get more and more theatrical.

After Natsuya enters in his next song choice, you’re already giggling in anticipation when a familiar instrumental starts up.

_ “I’m hot, you’re cold,” _ Natsuya sings, making you press your hands against your mouth in astonishment at the fact that he’s singing “Burnin’ Up” by the Jonas Brothers.

Once the surprise wears off, you realize how fitting the first verse is for your friendship with him. Natsuya is indeed hot; and you had been rather cold when the two of you first met, _ definitely _ acting like you knew him when you really didn’t.

When he begins the chorus, Natsuya takes a hold of your hand. _ “I’m slipping into the lava, and I’m trying to keep from going under,” _he sings, looking right into your eyes.

You can feel your heartbeat start to speed up the longer he serenades you, until the sound of your heart pounding in your ears almost drowns out his singing. Natsuya may be the one singing right now, but without a doubt, _ you’re _ the one who’s burning up for him. The realization feels less like slipping into the lava and more like plummeting from the edge of a cliff. 

Is this love? 

Do you love Natsuya? 

Being antsy to see him and missing him are innocent enough feelings, but the thrill of being his and wanting to hold his hand are undoubtedly feelings that go beyond caring about him as a friend.

Shit. 

You love Natsuya, don’t you?

Somewhere along the way, somewhere between when he’d first entered your life and now, your feelings for Natsuya had developed from apathy to love. He’d gone from being a soulmate in name to the embodiment of the word, and that made the pain you felt when you first met him — knowing that he was in no rush to find you, his soulmate — seem so insignificant compared to the pain you feel now, knowing that this is another secret you’ll have to keep from him.

It feels as though the universe is toying with you. After meeting Natsuya, you quickly realized not to hold your breath on a happy ever after anytime soon. You made your peace with that. 

To have actually fallen in love with Natsuya feels like a cruel joke, to have your soulmate right there — so close, yet still out of reach.

Compared to when you first met him, you can only imagine how much worse his reaction would be if you were to reveal that you’re his soulmate. Natsuya is a wanderer. He has no attachments to anyone or anything. The only reason he’s been here — been hanging out with you — for this long is because it’s not time for him to move on to his next destination yet. You just know he’ll leave your life prematurely if you say anything about being his soulmate…

You’re brought out of your thoughts when Natsuya prompts you to rap Big Rob’s verse in the song, so you put on a smile and do your best rapping.

…you’d rather say nothing at all if it means him staying.

* * *

As far as secrets go, somehow, hiding the fact that you’re in love with Natsuya is more difficult than hiding the fact that you two are soulmates. Being with Natsuya used to be as easy as being in the water is. Nowadays, acting natural around him feels like a new drill your coach thought up that you’re failing to get right; and just like in practice, the fact that you’re failing catastrophically _shows_. 

Fortunately for you, Natsuya just chalks up your recent stiffness to tough practices; and while it’s true that your training load has increased lately with your next competition just months away, it’s nothing that you haven’t been able to handle. Still, you’re grateful to have the convenient excuse to latch on to. 

You know it’s not one you can use forever though — Natsuya knows you well enough to know that no matter how challenging your training is, it’s only a matter of time before you’re getting through practice with ease again. Unfortunately, you’re just not really sure how to act natural around him anymore, not when you’ve never had to think about how to do so.

You’re smart enough to know that you’re not getting anywhere by stewing over your conundrum by yourself; so, as embarrassing as the idea is, you decide to see what insight your coach has to offer. He’s yet to steer you wrong, after all.

“Say, coach,” you start, as you stretch before wrapping up practice for the day, “hypothetically, how do you act natural around someone?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what if, hypothetically, you were keeping a secret from someone, and hypothetically, having that secret was making you act awkward around them? How do you act normal around them again? Hypothetically.”

“What’s the secret?”

“Well, let’s say the secret, hypothetically, is realizing that you see someone as more than just a friend now.”

Your coach fixed you with a look that just _ screamed _ are-you-kidding-me. “Is this about that Kirishima kid that’s always waiting for you after practice?”

“Of course not,” you insist, “this is hypothetical, remember?”

“Sure, kid, whatever you say,” your coach replies, rolling his eyes. “Let me ask you this then — do you have to think about swimming to be able to swim?”

“No, I just do it.”

“Exactly. You swim like you’re one with the water,” your coach says. “Same idea with acting normal around people when you’re, _ hypothetically _, keeping a secret from them — just let yourself act without thinking.”

“What if I accidentally give myself away somehow though?”

“I thought this was a hypothetical situation?” your coach asks with raised eyebrows. You only duck your head and continue with your stretches. “In any case, deciding to declare your love or to kiss someone takes active thought; and I’m willing to bet that if you just act without overthinking every move you make, you’ll naturally act in a way that you’re used to.”

You hum in response, contemplating your coach’s advice as you finish the last of your stretches.

By the time practice is officially over and you’re walking out to meet Natsuya, you decide to put your coach’s advice into practice, thinking of it as a new drill that you need to perfect. Not thinking about how to act seems difficult in theory, but your conversation with your coach plays back in your mind; and you approach Natsuya the same way you approach swimming — by just doing it.

To your delight, your coach’s advice proves to be sound. 

Without overthinking your every move, your mouth and body seem to know just how to act, as if being around Natsuya is written into your muscle memory. In no time at all, your stiffness around Natsuya is a thing of the past and you’re acting exactly as you always have (only with two secrets under wraps now instead of just one).

On your next day off, instead of staying in, you and Natsuya end up stopping by his place for a change of clothes since he’d forgotten to bring an overnight bag with him yesterday. A lack of sleepwear wasn’t a problem and you were able to provide him with a new toothbrush, but what you couldn’t provide him were clean clothes to wear for today.

Since you two were already out, the two of you decide to get breakfast at a deli that Natsuya claimed had the best omelettes in town. You weren’t particularly picky about your food, but you were pretty attached to the omelettes that you regularly bought from another deli, so you were curious to see how this other deli’s omelettes would match up.

They’re not open yet when you and Natsuya arrive though — which is a strike against them in your book, since your preferred deli is already open by the time you’re done with morning practice — so you and Natsuya decide to kill some time by walking around and seeing what else is in the area.

A laser tag center catches Natsuya’s eye, and you’re surprised that even a laser tag center is open before a deli is on a Sunday morning.

What you’re not surprised by, is the way Natsuya immediately turns to you when you two realize that their doors are open. “Up for a game of laser tag?” he asks, a competitive glint in his eyes. “We can work up an appetite before breakfast.”

“Like I didn’t already work one up overnight,” you sigh, looking down at your white shirt afterwards. “I’m already at a disadvantage just based on the color of my shirt.”

“That’s quitter’s talk,” Natsuya teases. “If you were confident in your laser tag skills, the color of your shirt wouldn’t matter.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you say, as you walk past him towards the doors. “We have time we need to kill anyway.”

While you two are at the front counter registering for a game, Natsuya’s debating with himself aloud as to whether or not the two of you should play as individuals or as a team. 

You’re ready to apologize to the employee for Natsuya’s indecisiveness, but she’s offering him a saccharine smile, telling him to take as much time as he needs to decide. There’s practically hearts in her eyes — and you’re guessing she doesn’t often come across people who look like Natsuya while at work — but you don’t blame her. If the circumstances had been different, maybe you would’ve been the same way when you first laid eyes on Natsuya too.

Eventually, Natsuya decides that you two should play as a team, asserting, “I can win as part of a team _ and _ in the individual ranking.”

“Like I’m going to let you beat me that easily,” you scoff.

“That’s the spirit!” Natsuya says with a grin. “Beating you wouldn’t be as satisfying if you weren’t playing at your best.”

“You’ll eat your words, Kirishima,” you warn, but that only makes him grin even wider.

The vest you’re given for the game helps obscure a portion of your shirt, but there’s still enough material showing that you know you’ll be sticking out like a sore thumb under the black lights of the arena. The other players that’ll also be participating had enough sense to not wear white for a game of laser tag, and there’s a surprisingly diverse crowd for a Sunday morning. There’s people around yours and Natsuya’s age, but there’s also high schoolers, and even middle-aged adults. 

You know that your athleticism doesn’t always translate to other activities out of the pool, so you’re not sure how you’ll fare against everyone, but all that really matters to you is that you beat Natsuya — even if it’s by a point and you two don’t even win as a team. Although you don’t consider yourself particularly competitive outside of swimming, you’re not about to take Natsuya’s trash talk lying down. 

Once the game starts and everyone spreads out into the maze, you decide to focus on hitting the targets that are dispersed around the arena — knowing that that’s the safest way for you to earn points while also getting power ups — and sniping whoever you can from behind. A more aggressive approach just wouldn’t be reasonable, not when you’re practically a walking glow stick. 

As you’re skulking about, keeping an eye out for either human or inanimate targets, you see Natsuya running your way. Before you can even think to duck out of the way, he’s already grabbing you and then pulling you behind a pillar, his body pressed right behind yours.

“What—” you whisper, but Natsuya immediately clasps his hand over your mouth. When you turn your head to glance at him behind you with a questioning look, he just shakes his head; and you can only assume that he’s hiding from another player who had spotted him.

You strain your ears, listening for footsteps from either direction, but you’re finding that you’re having a hard time focusing. 

For as long as the two of you have been hanging out, this is physically the closest you’ve ever been to Natsuya. The vests and clothes between you two keeps you from being able to fully appreciate the feel of his firm chest, but you try not to let your mind wander down that train of thought; or think too much about how you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You can feel yourself get antsier and antsier the longer you two stand in this close of a position, prompting you to try to squirm out of his hold. “Stop moving,” Natsuya whispers into your ear, placing his free hand on your hip to still you.

“The longer I just stand here, the more points I lose out on,” you hiss back, which, while not the reason for your restlessness, isn’t untrue. “If someone was stalking you, I think they would’ve found you by now.”

Natsuya doesn’t say anything back, but after a moment, he finally lets go of you, seeming to have come to the same conclusion. You’re disappointed to not be in his arms anymore, but you know that ultimately, this is for the best.

With a salute to each other, you two go your separate ways. You don’t see Natsuya again for the rest of the game and it — to your relief — eventually finishes without further incident.

In the end, the two of you triumph over all the other teams. Most of the team’s points are thanks to Natsuya, but you still rank higher than him individually for all the targets that you hit during the game.

Still, he’s a good sport about his loss. “To think you thought you’d be at a disadvantage,” Natsuya says with a smile, as the two of you leave the laser tag center. “Were you hustling me?”

You can’t help but skip ahead of him, high on the rush of winning. “Why would I need to hustle someone when my opponent was you?” you ask, turning to walk backwards so you can face him.

Natsuya shakes his head. “One win and she’s already this cocky…” he says, feigning disappointment.

“I mean, if today’s loss wasn’t enough for you, I’m happy to come back another time,” you reply, your voice tinged with mock concern. “Just don’t be surprised by how much more I score when I’m not wearing a shirt that makes me a walking glow stick.”

“We’ll see about that,” Natsuya says, his expression amused. “Let’s see how good you are when I’m not carrying our team.”

You open your mouth to volley another retort, but you’re interrupted by someone crying out. 

You turn your head towards the source of the noise to see a woman and a to-go carrier of iced coffees go flying forward as she leaves a coffee shop, having lost her footing on a sliding rug. It’s already too late to move out of the way though, and the coffees end up soaking your hair and your shirt.

For a moment, you can only stand there in shock, barely able to register the woman profusely apologizing while coffee drips off the ends of your hair and seeps into your shirt. 

You’re only brought out of your shock when you feel Natsuya’s hands on your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Tearing your eyes away from the random spot on the ground your gaze had been fixed on, you lift your gaze to meet Natsuya’s eyes. Worry’s written all over his face.

“I’m okay,” you answer a beat later, mustering your best smile afterwards. “It’s just coffee. I’ll live." 

You look past Natsuya to lock eyes with the woman; and with one last apology, she heads back inside the coffee shop, presumably to reorder the coffees that were ended up on you instead of in other people’s stomachs.

Once she’s out of sight, you let out a loud sigh. “This is apparently what I get for being cocky.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, you still look beautiful even when you’re covered in coffee,” Natsuya offers, his lips quirked upwards in a restrained smile.

You wring out your hair. “I’d feel better with a shower and clean clothes, but thanks anyway for the compliment,” you reply with a wry smile. 

When you look down at your shirt, the smile disappears and you sigh again. “Of all days to wear a white shirt…” Without a second thought, you lift your shirt to wring out whatever coffee you can from it. “Just so we’re clear, my shirt being see-through now isn’t an invitation to look at my chest.”

“I wouldn’t dream—”

Natsuya cuts himself off suddenly, making you divert your gaze from your shirt to look up at him. 

His eyes are fixed on your torso. Instead of looking at your chest though, his gaze is focused somewhere else — right on your ribs.

The silence between you two that follows is palpable, and you’re not sure what to do, or even say. With the clear view you’d given Natsuya, there’s no way he didn’t see your soulmate tattoo. Still, you can feel your hands moving against your skin, bringing down your shirt until your torso is covered again.

“Is that your soulmate tattoo?” Natsuya eventually asks, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding. 

His expression is blank, so you can’t even try to discern what he’s thinking right now in order to decide the best course of action. All you can think to do is answer his question, simply replying, “Yeah.”

“It’s a tiger shark, right?”

“That’s right.”

“You know,” Natsuya says, and you can tell by his searching expression that he’s trying to discern your thoughts too. His piercing gaze makes you squirm, and you cross your arms, feeling like the subject of an interrogation. “My soulmate tattoo is of a tiger shark too.”

You swallow, and then reply, “I know.” 

Natsuya mirrors your position, crossing his arms too. “When did you find out?” he asks, cocking his head.

You open your mouth, close it, and then open your mouth again, trying to get the words out. “I’ve known since the last competition you swam in.”

“So, you already knew when I approached you that night?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you didn’t say anything?” Natsuya asks, an accusatory tone to his voice that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. 

“How could I?” you snap, tired of feeling like someone under suspicion of a crime they didn’t commit. “You literally told me to my face that you basically don’t care about finding your soulmate. Why on earth would I come out and tell you I’m your soulmate after that? So you have a free pass to reject me? I’m not an idiot.”

“So you just decided you wouldn’t ever say anything?” Natsuya asks, his voice raising in volume to match yours. “If you didn’t get coffee spilled on you today, I might’ve never known!” 

“Okay, and?” you ask, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “It’s not like you wanted to know in the first place anyway! The only reason you’re upset with me now is because you feel foolish for not knowing when I knew the whole time.” You pause, taking a deep breath to try to calm down. “Look, now that you know, I’m not expecting anything, okay? So, let’s just go get omelettes for breakfast like we originally planned, and we can forget all of this ever happened.” 

You start walking forward again, but after a few steps, it’s clear that Natsuya hasn’t moved an inch. With a sense of dread, you turn back to look at him, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t just forget about this.”

The dread you feel starts to turn to panic, and you ask, “W-what do you mean?” You take steps back toward Natsuya, but he only steps farther back, making you stop in your tracks.

“I mean, finding out who your soulmate is is already big news. Imagine how much bigger of a bombshell it is to find out that your soulmate is someone that’s been by your side this whole time,” Natsuya says, pausing afterwards to look off to the side. When he looks back at you, there’s a remorseful expression on his face, and you have a good guess as to what’s coming. “I think we should spend some time apart.”

“…Why?” you manage to ask, your voice barely audible. “I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not even asking you to be in a relationship with me. Why can’t we just carry on as usual? Nothing has to change.”

“We’d just be pretending that nothing’s changed; and unlike you, I can’t pretend,” Natsuya says before turning to walk away.

You chase after him, grabbing onto his hand when you catch up to him. His hand is warm in yours, and softer than you’d expected too. Funny how you’d wondered what it would be like to hold his hand, only to be finding out this way. 

“Natsuya, please don’t go,” you beg. Even though the words break your heart to think, let alone say, you force them out of your mouth. “I really am okay with just being friends. In fact, I think that’s better for the both of us! Just please don’t do this.”

A beat passes, and you wait for his response with bated breath. “I’m sorry, [Name],” Natsuya murmurs, gently removing his hand from your grasp.

This time, when Natsuya walks away, you can only stand there and watch him go, rejection rooting you in place. The taste of salt touches your lips; and when you reach up to touch your face, you realize that you’re crying.

All you can do after that is to go home, still not knowing whether or not the omelettes from that deli are actually the best in town. 

* * *

Practice over the next few days is far from productive, to say the least. 

You can tell that you’re struggling. Normally, swimming came to you as easy as breathing did, but lately, it feels like you’re fighting against the water in order to cut a path forward.

That’s why you’re not surprised when halfway through the week, your coach stops you before you can leave morning practice, saying, “We need to talk.”

You’ve been on both the giving and receiving end of those words in your previous romantic relationships, but never have they made you break out into a cold sweat until now.

Instead of putting you out of your misery right away though, your coach prolongs the torture by offering to treat you to breakfast first. You’re on edge the entire time as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“You know what this is about, don’t you, kid?” your coach finally asks, after the food’s been brought to the table. “Your times are getting worse.”

“I know.”

“I won’t force you to tell me about anything that’s bothering you in your personal life, but if you know that your times are getting worse, then you should also know that you can’t go on like this. Not if you want to place in your races at the upcoming meet.”

You don’t speak right away because you know your coach is right, so you simply take another bite of your food, chewing in silence as you contemplate what to say next, if anything. Bringing up your relationship troubles — if you could even really call your troubles with Natsuya that — with your coach is no less embarrassing than asking for advice on how to deal with your feelings for Natsuya, but you know that you need to talk about this if you want to clear your mind and get back on track with your swimming.

“Do you remember that hypothetical situation I asked you about?” you eventually say, once you’ve swallowed the food in your mouth. “Well, the hypothetical someone found out about the hypothetical secret. Sort of.”

“You told that Kirishima kid how you feel about him?”

“No…he saw my soulmate tattoo,” you reply, not bothering to keep up the pretense of hypotheticals anymore. Your coach’s expectant look prompts you to add, “It matches his.”

“He didn’t take the news well, I’m guessing?”

“No…no, he didn’t,” you answer, and then tell your coach the story of what happened between you and Natsuya.

“Kid, you know I’m always on your side,” your coach starts, a thoughtful expression on his face, “but I can’t say I think that downplaying someone’s feelings over being kept in the dark about an issue that concerns them was a good idea.” 

“You think I should’ve told him before he could accidentally find out then?”

“No, that information was yours to do what you wanted with it,” your coach corrects. “Maybe you’re right that the situation didn’t need to be as big of a deal as it turned out to be, but it’s not your place to decide how someone else should feel about the situation. I think you do at least owe him an apology for that.” 

You’re quiet for a moment while you let your coach’s words sink in. “I understand. I don’t know if he wants to hear from me right now though…” you say, biting your lip as you trail off. Natsuya _ had _ said that he wanted space, and you two hadn’t spoken since the last time you saw him.

“You should still apologize anyway,” your coach advises. “Even if he doesn’t respond, you’ll know that you did the right thing; and you can start to move past this, if you’ll let yourself.

“I can’t force you to not dwell on the past; and I can’t pretend to know exactly how you’re feeling, or what the perfect solution to this situation is. What I _ do _ know is that you’ve worked too hard to let a boy — soulmate or not — get in the way of what you’ve been training for; and I’d hate to see this be your downfall when I think about all that you’ve already achieved and are capable of achieving.”

Your coach’s words bring a smile to your face — the first since your falling out with Natsuya, maybe — and you realize that, as usual, he’s right. 

Besides, you’d known that this was a possibility all along, hadn’t you? That Natsuya would react negatively if/when he found out that you two were soulmates? You’d even reasoned with yourself that you had your own goals to be focusing on instead of dwelling on the fact that your soulmate wasn’t in any hurry to find you.

You’d apologize to Natsuya, and if he accepts or doesn’t accept your apology…well, that’s out of your control; and there’s no point in worrying over what you can’t control. 

What you _ can _ control is whether to let yourself stay stuck in the past or keep moving towards the future. Considering the results of your recent practices, it’s clear that you’ve let yourself wallow for long enough. 

With or without Natsuya in your life, your goals won’t be achieved just by thinking about them.

* * *

While you still have the nerve, you text Natsuya before you even leave breakfast with your coach, apologizing for your behavior from the last time you two saw each other. 

He doesn’t have his read receipts on, but as hours become days and you don’t hear so much as a peep from him, you can only assume that he either completely ignored your message or read it and decided not to respond. Your assumption is only further supported by the fact that he’s still active on social media. 

He seems to be in Australia now, but you can’t bring yourself to watch his stories and see exactly what he’s up to, not wanting him to know that you’ve been thinking about him.

You don’t let yourself dwell though — not on the fact that he’s ignored you nor the fact that he’s going on with his life as if nothing happened. You’ve done all you can, and now it’s time for you to move on.

Your times start to improve in practice until they’re back to what they were before your falling out with Natsuya. At that point, you work twice as hard until your times are where they should’ve been, if not for your setback.

The changes in your routine feel strange at first — to not see Natsuya waiting for you with a smile when you leave practice or to have him as a constant presence around your apartment — but as time goes on, you readjust to what your life had been like before Natsuya had eased himself into it. You’re still always conscious of his absence, but the emptiness isn’t as palpable as it had initially been.

Soon enough, August and everything you’ve been working towards for the past year is just around the corner. 

Though Natsuya had never responded to your apology, you decide there’s no harm in reaching out and asking if he’d like to meet up with you while you’re in Tokyo — thanks to social media, you know that he’s in Japan too. Your schedule is tighter than it would be back at home and at the training facility, but you let him know where you’re staying, and when you have free time in the evening after practice and before bed.

As time goes by, you’re not particularly surprised that there’s no response from him. If you weren’t too busy trying to adjust to the time difference and didn’t have an impending competition to be focusing on, maybe the lack of response would sting more. 

With the meet getting closer and closer, Natsuya becomes the least of your worries — until it’s the day of the Pan Pacific Championships and you can’t think about anything else but that. It’d be difficult not to when you’re the defending champion for all of your individual events. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel any pressure from a desire to defend your spot as the champion, but stressing yourself out over it won’t get results; you just need to swim exactly as you’ve been practicing all this time.

The fruits of your labor over the past year culminates in three golds, a silver, and a bronze. 

Winning gold and staying the defending champion and setting a new record in your first event was exactly the confidence booster you’d needed to kick off the meet. It was disappointing to place third in your second event, and then second in your third event, but finishing first in your remaining two events allows you to conclude the championships on a high.

You’re not much of a partier, but it’s hard to not want to celebrate and get swept up in your teammates’ excitement about their own successes, so you opt to go to dinner with some teammates instead of a night of clubbing with others. The restaurant is more lavish than you’re used to when you dine out, but the food is well worth its expensive price; and you’re happy to be able to indulge — you even allow yourself to have a slice of cake for dessert. 

After dinner, you and your teammates continue the night by wandering into a karaoke lounge. The memory of the last time you did karaoke brings a pang of sadness and nostalgia, but you tamp down the feeling and focus on the present — tonight’s a night for you to be happy. 

When more food and drinks are ordered, you continue to abstain from drinking while you sing; but it’s just as fun for you to see some of your teammates’ words start to slur more and more as they belt out their own rendition of popular songs with the gusto of an actual popstar. The hours fly by until it’s well past midnight, but no one shows any sign of exhaustion, even after a day of competitive swimming.

Once it’s clear that your teammates who’ve been too liberal with their alcohol intake can no longer stand on their feet without help, you take the opportunity to dip out and return to the hotel with them.

You bid goodnight to a teammate as she gets off the elevator a floor before you, and help another teammate get to his own room after you’ve reached your floor. He sobered up enough that you don’t have to support most of his weight, but he still needs your help to walk in a straight line and keep from swaying. 

“You going to be okay by yourself?” you ask outside his room, eyeing him with a wary expression as he struggles to even insert his keycard into the reader. Eventually, you decide to take pity on him and help him out so you’re not standing in the hallway all night.

“If you’re worried, you’re welcome to spend the night,” he jokes, a teasing lilt to his voice as he stumbles into his room.

“Maybe if I get lonely,” you laugh, before wishing him a goodnight and then continuing down the hall.

As you approach your room at the end of the hallway, you notice someone leaning against the wall beside your door. Common sense tells you that you should probably book it to the stairs — waiting for an elevator would take too long — before any harm can befall you, but the person’s silhouette is familiar. You recognize that mop of unruly brown hair.

With the distance closed between you two, you realize that your suspicions were right. “Natsuya,” you simply say, your tone bland. “What are you doing here?” 

Though he was never too far from your thoughts over the past few months and though you had hoped to see him while you two were in the same country again, now that he’s actually here in front of you, you can feel your blood start to simmer in your veins, a hint of anger forming beneath the surface. As far as you’d been aware until right now, he had no interest in seeing you, if his lack of response to your messages was anything to go by. How dare he just show up in front of you without so much as a word? 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Natsuya asks, tilting his head in the direction of your teammate’s room. It dawns on you that he’d heard the exchange between you two. 

“I don’t have to answer to you,” you reply, a hard edge to your voice. “I’m not your business. You’ve made that perfectly clear. Now, again, what are you doing here?” 

Natsuya sticks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “You said you wanted to meet up, so…here I am. Meeting up with you.”

You don’t bother stopping yourself from rolling your eyes. “Ah yes,” you drawl, crossing your arms, “how could I forget that we’d made plans to meet up tonight?” You fix him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, that’s right; because we didn’t.”

Natsuya offers you a smile, one that you meet with a scowl. “It’s only right that I see you while you’re here, isn’t it?” he asks instead, barreling on. “Congratulations, by the way, on your medals at the Pan Pacific Championships. I watched all of your races and…wow, you were really a sight to behold.”

“Thanks,” you say in a clipped tone, “but if that’s all you showed up unannounced for, then I think we both can walk away with closure now.” 

You unlock your door and then push it open, but before you can walk inside — and slam the door in his face — Natsuya catches hold of your wrist. “[Name], wait.”

You turn back around, but you also yank your wrist out of his grasp. “What?” you snap, your patience wearing thin. Nothing about this meeting is like what you’d hoped it would be; and you’re ready to just go to sleep and push this unwanted memory to the furthest recesses of your brain.

“What you said earlier…” Natsuya starts when he sees that he has your attention again, “about me making it clear that you’re not my business—”

“If you came here to apologize or to remind me about something I’m already aware of, then this is a waste of time for both of us,” you cut in.

Natsuya shakes his head. “What I wanted to say is that what you said is wrong,” he corrects. “It’s not true that you’re not my business.”

“How could that possibly be the case when _ you’re _ the one who said you needed space and _ you’re _ the one who’s ignored my messages?”

“I know, I know,” Natsuya easily agrees. “I didn’t suggest we spend time apart because I wasn’t ready to settle down with my soul— with you though.”

You just blink at him as his words register in your mind, only able to say, “…what?” If that’s not what he’d meant, then what did he mean? 

“I always thought that you were attractive, but when someone’s not interested, I back off,” Natsuya explains, his eyes earnest and almost pleading as they stare into yours. “I just _ knew _ that I couldn’t let you go though — I had to get to know you; and then when I did, I couldn’t imagine not being by your side. When I learned that we’re soulmates…everything just made so much sense, and I realized that I couldn’t accept just being your friend.”

You open your mouth with the intention of responding, but no words come out. This isn’t the turn you’d expected the conversation to take. 

“I was happy to hear from you,” Natsuya eventually continues. “Truly, I was. I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation though, not if all you were going to tell me was that you were glad we could be friends again.” 

“Natsuya…” 

“You’ve probably guessed by now, but the real reason why I came here is to tell you that I want us to be more than friends.” 

“I…” you start, trailing off before you decide on asking, “are you really ready to commit to one person?”

“I could dedicate myself to meeting every girl out there and I’d never be as sure about them as I am about you,” Natsuya says, his expression completely serious. “Traveling the world, seeing new places, and meeting new people is nice and all, but some of my best memories have been in your apartment, just watching TV or helping you with the housework. 

“Maybe I’ll never find that one place where I want to put down roots, but I don’t need that — not when being with you is where I feel most at home. I love you, [Name], and even if you don’t feel the same way…or aren’t ready to settle down yet, then I’m willing to wait for you for as long as it takes.”

All you can do is look at him with wide eyes, too stunned by his confession to say anything right away. “You’re an idiot,” you finally say, moving to bury your face in his chest.

Natsuya’s arms wrap around you, making you feel warm and secure in his embrace. “I know. But I’m an idiot you love…?” he replies, though his words come out sounding more like a question and it’s hard to miss the longing in his voice.

You lean back to look at him, and he’s already looking down at you with a hopeful smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “You’re an idiot I love.”

Natsuya’s smile widens, and the brightness of it seems to have increased tenfold. There’s only a moment to marvel at the sight before his lips press against yours.

The kiss takes you by surprise — both by its suddenness and its gentleness. You’d imagined him to be a more aggressive kisser, but his mouth is soft against yours, as if testing the waters. 

You let yourself enjoy the feel of his lips, your hands fisting the material of his shirt. When the pressure of his mouth increases and the kiss becomes more demanding though, you force yourself to draw back before you two can get carried away. You can’t let him have his way so easily, after all.

“Don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” you warn, wearing a stern expression. “I was seriously ready to slam the door in your face.”

Natsuya raises his arms in surrender. “I’m counting my lucky stars that I don’t have to worry about how to get back to Iwatobi now that the trains aren’t running anymore.”

“You’re so full of it,” you reply, bumping your hip against his as you unlock your door again. “You would’ve just stayed over at Nao’s.”

“Okay, yeah,” Natsuya concedes with a laugh, “but I’d have to sleep on the couch at Nao’s.”

You push the door open for him. “Like you’re not going to be sleeping on the floor here?” you ask rhetorically, your eyebrows raised.

“You’d really let your soulmate sleep on the floor?” Natsuya replies as he walks into the room, his tone a mix between disbelief and whininess. “When your bed is too big for just one person? Surely, I can convince you to share the bed with me.”

You shake your head, calling after him, “Maybe if you play your cards right.”

Still, you hang a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle outside before you let the door close behind you. Just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://tonystonem.tumblr.com/). :)


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